Page 18 of Taken By the Enforcer

“No.” His large hand frames my jaw, thumb brushing my cheek with deceptive gentleness. “This is protection. For you. Forourchild. You think the world outside would give you safety? Aldo would let you live after you embarrassed him? Your father’s wrath would spare you?” His grip tightens. “Here, no one can touch you. Here, you are mine.”

The word burns through me—mine—both terrifying and shamefully thrilling.

“I don’t want this,” I whisper.

“You don’t know what you want yet.” His gaze hardens to obsidian. “But by the time my daughter is born, you’ll love me. That’s my vow.”

A shudder rolls through me. “You can’t force my love.”

“Can’t I?” He tilts his head, lips curving in a smile that isn’t kind. “I’ve already taken your fear, your body, your flight. Love is next. And I’ll make sure when you give it, it’s because you’ve learned the truth: no one else will ever worship you as I do.”

Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them back. “You don’t know me.”

“I know enough.” His hand drops to my belly, spreading warm and firm across the swell. The baby shifts as if recognizing his touch. His voice lowers, husky and certain. “And what I don’t know yet, I’ll learn. Every sigh, need, secret. You’ll give them all to me.”

I step back, desperate for space. “You can’t buy me.”

“Not with money,” he says simply, then rubs my belly. “I already own you with something greater.”

I can’t breathe.

He turns, issuing commands in rapid Italian to the staff. The woman in white—clearly a nurse—steps forward. The doctor follows, murmuring about prenatal checkups and supplements.

“No,” I snap, backing up. “You can’t?—”

Donatello’s hand settles heavy on my shoulder. “Yes. The doctor will examine you. You’ve lost weight when women gain during pregnancy. You’ll eat, rest, and be healthy. No arguments, Paolina.”

I choke on fury. “And if I refuse?”

His eyes flash, dark fire. “You won’t. Because it’s notjust you anymore. It’sher. And before I let you risk my daughter, I’ll lock you in my bedroom instead of allowing you to roam free here.”

My knees weaken. He catches me, guiding me to a velvet chair like I’m fragile glass. The doctor kneels beside me, gentle, efficient, while Donatello looms close enough I can’t forget who orchestrates every second.

When they finish, he dismisses them with a flick of his fingers. Only we remain.

“You took my phone,” I whisper.

“Of course.” He sits across from me, sprawling in the chair like a king. “No calls, texts, or begging for rescue that will never come.”

“I don’t want your money. I’ll pay you back.”

He leans forward, elbows on his knees, gaze drilling into me. “You owe me nothing but yourself. And that, bella, I’ll take in full.”

My heart races, torn between fear and the shameful thrum of want.

His hand rises, cupping my cheek again. “Fight me, Paolina. Scratch, bite, run. It only makes the hunt sweeter. But when you finally give in—and you will—I’ll be there. And you’ll know you’ve always belonged here.”

His thumb strokes over my lower lip, possessive, final.

I want to scream. Weep. Give in.

Instead, I whisper the only truth I dare: “I hate you.”

His smile sharpens, satisfied. “Good. Hate first. Love after. Both bind you to me.”

He rises, towering over me, and gestures toward the staircase that curves up into shadow. “Come. You’ll see our rooms. Rest while you can,bella mia. The island is yours… but the world outside is gone.”

My legs move because his will directs them. Marble stairs rise as the villa stretches above, magnificent and gilded. But every step feels like a door locking shut behind me.